Rabbi Shmuel Silber - Institute for Jewish Continuity

Rabbi Shmuel Silber - Dean

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Parsha Perspectives: Naso-A Head Above the Rest

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This week’s Parsha, continues with the theme of counting the tribal families and enumerating their responsibilities and tasks.  The Torah begins with what appears to be a simple phrase, “Naso Es Rosh Bnai Gershon (Count the sons of Gershon).” (Bamidbar 4:22) It is interesting that this mirrors the verbiage found in last week’s Parsha, “Se’u Es Rosh Kol Adas Bnai Yisroel (Count all the congregation of the Children of Israel).” (Bamidbar 1:2) In each of these instances, the Torah uses the word Rosh (head). TheShelah HaKadosh (Rav Yishaya Horowitz, 1565-1630) explains that in the eyes of God we are each considered a Rosh, a head, someone exceptionally significant. Society has many metrics by which it measures the success, value and worth of an individual. Some may measure the quality of a person based on their level of education, earning ability or material possessions. Others may measure individual greatness through the prism of pedigree and yichus. The Torah is teaching us that in the eyes of God, we each possess personal greatness; each of us is a Rosh. This personal greatness is inherent and innate.

But how do we activate this personal greatness? The answer to this question can be found in Pirkei Avos, Ethics of our Fathers.  The great sage Yehuda ben Teyma states, “Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, strong as a lion to carry out the will of your Father in Heaven.” (5:23) The Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (Rav Shlomo Ganzfried, 1804-1886) explains: “Be bold as a leopard” – Don’t be afraid to perform the mitzvos (commandments) even if others will mock you. Doing what is right is often difficult and can raise the ire of those around you. Stand up for your ideals and don’t compromise on the fundamental tenants of your faith. Be bold in doing what needs to be done. “Light as an eagle” – The eagle flies high and directs its sights to the heavens above. The eagle can’t spend its time constantly looking downward or it will fail to reach its intended destination. In life there are many things which hold us down. Failure, broken relationships and shattered dreams tether us to our current reality and prevent us from achieving growth. If you are always looking down, you can’t move forward. Set your sights high, dream new dreams, create new goals, forge new relationships and learn to soar. Identify that which is holding you back and devise the strategy to transcend and soar above it. “Swift as a deer” – One should always run to do good. Grab the opportunities to accomplish something great. Don’t wait for the perfect moment, make the current moment perfect. Take advantage of beautiful life opportunities while they are still yours for the taking. “Strong like a lion” – Be committed in your service of God. Develop the strength to honor your obligations towards God and your fellow man on an ongoing basis. There may be times when you aren’t feeling inspired. In those moments find your lion-like strength to fulfill your responsibilities. Consistency and continuity are the cornerstones of religious identity.

It is here in this seemingly simple statement that Yehuda ben Teyma gives us the key to activating our personal greatness.  Stand up for what you believe in, even if the world mocks you. Focus on upward growth and don’t get mired in downward negativity. Run to seize your life opportunities. Live a life of committed and continuous service to your God and your people.

Yehuda ben Teyma looks to the animal kingdom for examples of character traits that we are to emulate. The comparison to the leopard, eagle and lion are clear.  But why the deer? The fastest animal is not the deer – it is the cheetah. If Yehuda ben Teyma wanted to convey the need for speed in our performance of mitzvos and in the seizing of life opportunities why doesn’t he instruct us to be “swift like the cheetah?”

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) explains that the deer is unique within the animal kingdom. Whenever the deer takes leaps forward towards a new destination – it always looks back. It checks to see if the herd is safe. It looks back to make sure its fellow deer are settled and secure. No matter how long the journey forward, it continues to look back.

Yehuda ben Teyma intentionally chose the deer to teach us an important lesson. As we strive for self-actualization and try to become bold, committed and soar to the heavens, we must always remember to look back. We must remember our responsibility to our people. We cannot focus on self-growth to the exclusion of our national responsibilities. If we are growing but not keeping an eye as to what is happening with our brothers and sisters, our growth is deficient. If we move forward but don’t look back and figure out how to help the rest of the herd, then we are not serving God, we are serving ourselves. We must learn to grow as individuals while simultaneously doing what we can to help the other and care for our nation.

We are each a Rosh, we are each important and significant. We have so much to offer, so much we can become, and so much we can accomplish. But we can only be aRosh, if we maintain the connection to Kol Adas Bnai Yisroel, (the nation of the Children of Israel). We must grow as individuals – but we must always remember to look back.

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Parsha Perspectives: Bamidbar-Making the Honor Roll

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“The Lord spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert, in the Tent of Meeting on the first day of the second month, in the second year after the exodus from the land of Egypt, saying. Take the sum of all the congregation of the children of Israel, by families following their fathers’ houses; a head count of every male according to the number of their names.” (Bamidbar 1:1-2)

The fourth book of the Torah begins in a rather non-dramatic fashion: a count, a simple tallying of the tribes. But why was this necessary? At first glance it would appear this was done in preparation for entry into the Land of Israel. The Jewish people would have to raise an army to fight against the indigenous nations of Canaan. God commands Moshe to count the men from age twenty in order to ascertain the size of the national fighting force. However, Levi is counted separately from the other tribes and is reckoned from the age of one month. Rashi explains the count was not to gauge the size of the potential army, rather, “Mitoch Chibasan L’fanav MonehOsam B’Chol Shaah (Because of [God’s] love for the [Jewish people]; He counts them at every moment.)” This was not a utilitarian count, it was a love count, to show how much He cares about us as a nation and as individuals.  

 But then something fascinating occurs. “These are the descendants of Moses and Aaron on the day that the Lord spoke to Moses at Mount Sinai. These are the names of the sons of Aaron: Nadab the firstborn Abihu, Elazar, and Ithamar.”(Bamidbar 3:1-2) The Torah begins to list the offspring of Aharon and Moshe and yet, only Aharon’s children are mentioned and Moshe’s are not. What is the meaning of this omission?

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) explains:

“For in all these chapters of numbers, only those are mentioned of the dead who formed the separate branches of the tribes and families, but of the living only those are named who had some official public position as Nesiim (tribal princes) and Kohanim (priests). But our Moses allowed his sons to be quite absorbed in the masses without any special distinction, he did not even have a small position, a tiny title, a small badge for his own children.” (Bamidbar 3:1)

 There were two different groups of individuals listed in the counting. Those who founded the major families and had since died and those who became contributors and assumed active positions of leadership within the Jewish people. Moshe’s sons are not counted by name (though they are included in the total tally) because they did not contribute to the Jewish people in a substantive manner. Aharon’s sons were given the mantle of the priesthood. They served and they contributed.

Our precious Torah is conveying to us a truly profound lesson. Life is about rolling up your sleeves and seeing what you can do to advance your family, your community, your people and your world. Too often, we sit back and expect others to do for us, to give to us and to provide for us. Too often, we expect that others will do the heavy lifting while we sit on the side and benefit from the fruits of their labor. This unfortunate mindset is prevalent in many areas of life. Spouses assume that the other will do the necessary work to improve the marriage saying, “I’m ready and willing to have a blissful marriage, but you, my significant other should do all the work.” Parents want their children to be committed and passionate Jews but sometimes fail to be true spiritual role-models. We are quick to point out the flaws in our schools, shuls, communities, leaders and nation, but are we committed enough to actually work to improve them?

The counting conducted in the beginning of Bamidbar is no ordinary count. It is the “who’s who” of the Jewish people. It is the Judaic honor role that pays homage to those who dedicated themselves to advancing the nationhood and destiny of the Jewish people. For whatever the reason, Moshe’s children did not follow in the footsteps of their illustrious father. They did not lead lives of committed contribution; they did not dedicate their abilities and talents to the Jewish nation.  

Our goal is to forge a meaningful identity that will continue to inspire even when we are no longer here. We must roll up our sleeves. We have to work, we have to contribute. We cannot be spectators in our personal, communal and national lives. We must rise to the occasion and make a difference whenever and wherever we can. This Shabbos we read the names of men who lived thousands of years ago but through whose efforts we live today. Let us become the kind of people whose efforts will shape the world in which we live and whose memory will inspire for generations to come.

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Parsha Perspectives: Bechukosai-Make it Rain

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“If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them, I will give your rains in their time, the Land will yield its produce, and the tree of the field will give forth its fruit. Your threshing will last until the vintage, and the vintage will last until the sowing; you will eat your food to satiety, and you will live in security in your land.” (Vayikra, 26:3-5)

It appears to be a simple formula: do what God asks of you and things will work out well; disobey and there will be catastrophic circumstances. Despite the simplicity of the message, there is an obvious yet profound theological issue; at times the righteous suffer and the wicked prosper. Life doesn’t always seem to follow the pattern articulated in the verse. But there is another simpler, more nuanced question I would like to focus on. We are taught in Pirkei Avos (Ethics of Our Fathers):

“Antignos of Socho received the tradition from Shimon the Righteous. He would say: Do not be as slaves, who serve their master for the sake of reward. Rather, be as slaves who serve their master not for the sake of reward. And the fear of Heaven should be upon you (1:3).”

The great sage, Antignos teaches us that one should not serve God for the sake of receiving reward! How do we reconcile this teaching with the verses in the beginning of these week’s Parsha?

The Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Chaim Attar, 1696-1743) explains that God isn’t promising reward, He is allowing us to share in the bounty we help to create through our dynamic spiritual service. When we serve God, fulfill the mandates and mitzvos of the Torah, we create blessing in this world. God is promising us a portion in the very blessing we help to create.

Perhaps, we can take this idea a bit farther. There is a concept found in rabbinic literature, b’derech she’adam rotzeh ley’lech, molichin oso (the path which a person chooses to take, is the path he is led down). God gives us the gift of bechira (free choice). We have the right to choose our direction and lifestyle and when we clearly articulate through word or deed the path we intend to take, God assists us in travelling down that road. As such, when we person decides to be holy, to live a meaningful life and positively impact the world, God helps him/her make this a reality. One of the greatest challenges we face in this temporal, physical world is seeing to our material needs. Anyone who has ever experienced financial hardship knows that monetary stress is not an issue, it becomes the issue. Financial stress impacts everything from shalom bayis (marital harmony), to self-esteem. For most of us, when there is financial stress, there is often little bandwidth for spirituality. When one is struggling financially it often takes all his inner strength to just keep his head above water. Perhaps, this is what God is telling us. Im b’chukosai tey’leychu, u’mitzvosai tishmiru, (If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them): if you make the conscious decision in word and deed to live a life of holiness, to find your inner spiritual strength, to become something beautiful and necessary, then, v’nasati gishmeychem b’itam (I will give your rains in their time). This is not a reward for your good deeds, this is the investment capital to allow you to continue on your journey of spiritual growth. God looks to us to make the decision about the people we want to be and lives we want to lead. If we make the right kind of decisions, if we are truly genuine in our desire to be something better, then He will help us along this path, removing some of the material obstacles which are often a source of stress.

Life is often not as black and white as articulated in the above-mentioned verses. There are many factors which go into God’s decision making and running of the universe. But the message is clear. Decide on the kind of person you want to be and life you want do lead. Articulate your goals and life aspirations. Decide how you are going to make the world a better place. Know in your heart, that if your decisions are the correct, God will help you along your life journey.

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Parsha Perspectives: Behar-Do No Harm

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“And you shall not wrong, one man his fellow Jew, and you shall fear God, for I am the Lord, your God.” (Vayikra 25:17)

The Torah is replete with laws that govern our inter-personal conduct. We are taught how to treat the other person and his property. We are obligated to help another in need and to be sensitive to the challenges and difficulties of our fellow Jew. So what is the Torah coming to teach us in the above quoted verse? We are commanded to help and aid when another is in need. Is it necessary to tell us that we “shall not wrong” another? What is being added here that has not been conveyed in the commandments that precede and follow these words?

The Talmud (Bava Metziah 58b) explains that this verse comes to warn us against a very specific transgression: wronging another with our words.

Our Rabbis taught: “You shall not therefore wrong one man his fellow Jew;” Scripture refers to verbal wrongs. E.g., if a man is a penitent, one must not say to him, ‘Remember your former deeds.’ If he is the son of proselytes he must not be taunted with, ‘Remember the deeds of your ancestors.’ If he is a proselyte and comes to study the Torah, one must not say to him, ‘Shall the mouth that ate unclean and forbidden food, abominable and creeping things, come to study the Torah which was uttered by the mouth of Omnipotence!’ If he is visited by suffering, afflicted with disease, or has buried his children, one must not speak to him as his companions spoke to Job, ‘Remember, I pray thee, whoever perished, being innocent?’”

Words are powerful and can deliver a blow far more debilitating than any fist. The Talmud teaches us important principles in the realm of interpersonal conduct. Don’t dwell on things of the past that cannot be changed. Don’t tell a person that as a result of his past mistakes he has limited his future. Don’t try to give insight into the suffering of another. True omniscience is reserved for God. Every person carries a burden of their past. Every person has things they wish they could change, but cannot. Every person has things they wish they could do over, but life does not afford us that opportunity. Be sensitive to this reality, be sensitive to the burden of the other.

But there is another message as well. The great Chassidic leader, Rav Simcha Bunim of Pshischa (1765-1827) writes, “Who is a Chassid (pious individual)? One who goes above and beyond that which is required. The Torah tells us not to wrong another; this is the law. Piety, to go above and beyond, requires that we not wrong ourselves.”

The Rebbe teaches us a profound lesson. We all make mistakes. We do things that are wrong, we engage in behaviors and actions that we know are beneath us and undermine our personal growth. As a result we begin to look down on ourselves, we begin to feel we are worthless, devoid of potential and lack any prospect of becoming holy and significant. Don’t wrong yourself. Don’t compound the sin by losing faith in yourself. It is important to remember that despite engaging in negative activity, at our core, we are good. God created each of us with a beautiful and pure soul and no matter how many mistakes we make this soul remains intact and unsullied.

And you shall not wrong, one man his fellow Jew: simple words that yield profound lessons. Words hurt and can create irreparable damage. Don’t visit pain upon the other. Don’t visit pain upon yourself. We face so many challenges, both personal and national. We have obstacles and hurdles that we must overcome. Don’t create additional obstacles for another with hurtful and harmful words. Don’t create additional barriers for yourself with negative self-perception and image. Build up the other, build up yourself and pave the way for accomplishment and fulfillment.

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Parsha Perspectives: Emor-Elevating Servitude

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“No non kohen may eat holy things; a kohen’s resident and his hireling may not eat holy things.  And if a kohen acquires a person, an acquisition through his money, he may eat of it, and those born in his house they may eat of his food.” (Vayikra 22:10-11)

The Kohanim led lives devoted to serving the Jewish people. They were our emissaries in the Temple and served as spiritual role-models for the nation of Israel.  We were charged with supporting them through different types of tithes and portions which were then sanctified and could not be consumed by a non-Kohen. With some significant exceptions. If a Kohen purchased a servant, the servant was permitted to eat of the same sacred items of which the Kohen master partook. The servant, having become a member of the household, assumed the same rights as the members of the immediate family. If we take a moment to reflect on this reality we see how truly amazing it is. A regular Yisroel (non-Kohen) was precluded from partaking of sacrificial or sanctified items, yet the gentile who becomes the servant of the Kohen was permitted. The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) explains this dynamic with a profound insight. We often think of servitude in negative terms. We think of it as one person subjugating another. Servitude, the lack of complete personal autonomy is viewed as a disservice and abuse of the other. Yet, according to the above-mentioned verse, when the individual is free he may not partake of the Kohanic portion, yetwhen becomes a servant to the Kohen, he is permitted. At times, giving yourself over to something greater than yourself, frees you from you own limitations.  There is elevation through servitude.

“For the children of Israel are servants to Me; they are My servants, whom I took out of the land of Egypt. I am the Lord, your God.” (Vayikra 25:55).

God calls us many names, the children of Israel, my son, my firstborn, yet the term used most often throughout the Torah is “servant.”

When the Torah eulogizes Moshe, it says:

“And Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there, in the land of Moab, by the mouth of the Lord.” (Devorim 35:55)

The great leader is not referred to as a prophet or a teacher, he is simply called a servant, an eved. When we find the strength to give ourselves over to God, we transcend our limitations. As individuals, our reach, ability and capacity are all limited. But when we become servants to the Infinite, all becomes possible. When a man becomes a servant to the Kohen, he gets to partake of the holy Kohanic diet; when we become servants to God, we discover the divinity within.

Often there is a discomfort with describing oneself as a “servant” of God. It sounds like I am signing away my autonomy and freedom. The servant described in the verse may or may not have the right to choose his destiny, but we do. If we become servants of God, it is because we choose to do so. We choose to cast our lots with our Father because we believe that when we connect ourselves to Him, we can discover our own personal greatness. When we connect ourselves to Him, we transcend our myopic personalistic and world view. We spend much time running from servitude, instead of embracing it. True freedom is the ability and opportunity to become the best version of ourselves. This can only occur when we tap into the resources which God provides.  But like the servant who can only eat at the table of his master if he pledges himself to the services of the master, we can only grow, find our greatness and discover our limitless holiness if we become true servants to our Master Father.  Servitude to God doesn’t stymie our individuality or autonomy.  In fact, it is quite the opposite, only the servant is truly free. Only the servants have the ability and tools to become the best version of themselves.

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Parsha Perspectives: Kedoshim-Morality, Moderation and Maturation

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“And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to the entire congregation of the children of Israel, and say to them, you shall be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.” (Vayikra 19:1-3)

We strive for it, we yearn for it, yet we find it difficult to define. We translate the word Kedusha as holiness, but what does it mean to be holy? How can holiness be measured? How do we know if we have been successful in becoming holy people?

The commentaries provide many insights. The Midrash explains that the definition of holiness is “Divine emulation.” Whatever God does, we are charged to do the same. The Talmud elaborates, “Just as God clothed the naked (Adam and Chava), so shall you clothe the naked.  Just as God visits the sick (as He visited with Avraham after the bris), so shall you visit the sick…” The Talmud’s examples are focused on chessed (acts of charitable kindness) and so it would seem that the highest form of Divine emulation is to be a Baal Chessed, a kind, giving and charitable person. True Kedusha, pure holiness, lies in the ability to transcend the self and focus on the other.

Rashi provides another definition: “Separate yourself from immorality and sin.” Core holiness is defined by one’s ability to fight against the urges, desires and wants that often debase us. God can tolerate our shortcomings and mistakes, but we must strive to be a moral nation. Without morality (specifically sexual morality) we are no different than animals. Holiness is the ability to resist temptation and remain on the proper path of life.

Ramban (Nachmanidies) explains that holiness means moderation. Learn to limit yourself even with those things which are permitted to you. The true indication of holiness is the ability to exercise restraint even in those areas in which one can technically overindulge. The trait of restraint is perhaps the most important ingredient in successful living. It is easy to lose oneself in the (permitted) pleasures of this world. We must learn to exercise restraint in the world of the permitted to ensure that we do not cross the line into the world of the illicit. We must learn to say that just because we can have it, doesn’t mean we should.  This ability to exercise restraint ensures that we can each master our individual wants and passions and not become slaves to them.

 Rav Menachem Mendel of Vorka (1779-1848) looks at this command in a dramatically different fashion. The Rebbe asks, “Is it truly possible, and is it fair to ask man to aspire to the level of holiness? Rather, God is not asking us to be like the angels, for this is impossible for physical, carnal man. God simply asks us L’hiyos Kodesh b’madreyga she’hu omeyd bah (be holy wherever you are and wherever you stand), achieve holiness on whatever level you may be, in whatever state you may find yourself.” 

God is teaching us to find and achieve holiness in all we do. Often, we compartmentalize holiness. We are holy in certain areas and mundane in others. We may be kadosh(holy) in Shul, yet mundane in the workplace. We may be holy when speaking to God, yet ordinary in the way we speak to others. The Rebbe teaches us that we must infuse holiness in all we do, B’Chol Matzav She’Tihiyu Bo (in every situation and state of being). Everything we do in life can serve a higher purpose. When we are in the workplace we can make a Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name) by conducting ourselves with honesty and integrity. When walking on the street we can be holy by proactively greeting the other – Jew and Gentile alike. When we watch a sunrise, we can see the greatness of God’s creation. Everything we do can be infused with holiness and meaning.

The Rebbe takes this idea one step further. The real definition of holiness is pushing yourself just a bit further. The enemy of holiness is not impurity or sin, it is complacency. Kedoshim Tihiyu, B’Chol Matzav She’Tihiyu Bo, Hiskadshu V’Alu Kim’ah (be holy, in every situation, in every state of being – sanctify yourself and raise yourself even just a little bit) – just a little bit. All God asks of us is just to try a little harder. Wherever you are holding in life, try to nudge yourself a bit further along your personal, sacred path. God does not ask for perfection or even near-perfection. God asks for effort. You don’t have to reach the finish line to become holy. You just have to start running. 

 Too often we shy away from life initiatives because we are not confident we can accomplish what we set out to do. Life is not about getting to the top of your personal mountain, it is about having the courage to begin the climb. And after you start the climb, success is defined by taking one step after the other. They may be small steps and to the outside world it may not even look like you are moving, but you know you are placing one foot in front of the other and God knows that you are trying. Even if you don’t reach your intended destination or see the actualization of your intended goal, if you put in the effort and advanced your cause to the best of your ability, you have been successful.

Kedoshim Tihiyu (be holy) – we must strive to emulate our Creator and think beyond ourselves. We must strive to be a nation governed by morality and self-restraint. We must strive to be individuals who find and infuse holiness into everything we do and every experience we have. We must each find the courage to propel and push ourselves forward and work just a bit harder in order to actualize the great potential we possess within. May we each find the strength to continue the journey, advance the climb and find the holiness that surely awaits.

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Parsha Perspectives: Acharei Mos-Pouring and Planting

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There are many prohibitions in the Torah. Refraining from violating these prohibitions and maintaining our allegiance to God can be challenging at times. Yet, there are other prohibitions that seem a bit less complicated and tempting.

“For regarding the soul of all flesh its blood is in its soul, and I said to the children of Israel: You shall not eat the blood of any flesh, for the soul of any flesh is its blood all who eat it shall be cut off.”
(Vayikra 17:14)

I don’t of anyone who struggles with blood consumption. Yet the Torah hands down such a stiff penalty. Jewish law tells us that if an animal is slaughtered for sacrificial purposes the blood must be applied to the altar and if the animal is slaughtered for regular consumption the Torah commands us, “…. you shall spill it on the ground like water.” (Devorim 12:16) The Torah repeats the prohibition of consuming blood multiple times,each time with a reminder of punishment.  Why such severity regarding the consumption of blood? What is the deeper message?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe provides an incredible insight. Blood symbolizes passionate and vibrant life.  Blood courses through our veins and allows us to engage in dynamic activity. Blood represents vitality. This life vitality is actualized through the skills, abilities and strengths given to us by God. If one were to ingest blood, it would represent taking of this vitality and only using it for personal advancement. If we consume blood, we are making the statement that our individual strengths and abilities are only for ourselves. But God wants us to think bigger and become better. For sacrificial animals that blood is applied to the altar, symbolizing the need to use our abilities for some higher purposes. We cannot simply use our talents solely for our own personal self-advancement, we must use them in a holy, spiritual and uplifted fashion. We must utilize our strengths to forge deeper connections with God and discover our own personal holiness. We must find a holy application for all our skills and abilities. For non-sacrificial, mundane animals, the Torah commands us to spill the blood on the ground like water. Why does the Torah use this verbiage? Why not just tell us that we can’t eat it? What does it matter if we spill out on the ground or dispose of it in some other way? Water is used to nurture growth. When you plant seeds, the fertile soil is not enough, you must water them to enable their growth. The Torah is conveying to us an incredible lesson. Take the blood, which represents the totality of your abilities, strengths and dynamic potential and pour it on the ground like water; use it to facilitate growth in the world around you. Use your kochos to cause the ground around you to bring forth beautiful life. Use your blood to enable growth in others, use your blood to make the world around you more vibrant and holy. Don’t ingest the blood, don’t keep your abilities for yourself, pour it on the earth around and use it to enable growth all around you. Find a way to use your abilities to make the world and the people around you better.

What begins as a simple prohibition, teaches us a dramatic life lesson. Put your abilities on the altar of God and find a way to use your strengths to discover and amplify your personal holiness. Pour your heart, soul and arsenal of talent and strength into the earth around you and facilitate growth in your friends, family and humanity.

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Pesach Perspectives: Experiencing Emancipation: Momentary Freedom and Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah

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The Pesach Seder brings with it a plethora of spiritual opportunities. We drink the Four Cups, consume matzah and maror, ask the four questions and, of course, enjoy a celebratory meal. But the true essence of this sacred night is to retell and re-experience the Exodus from Egypt. “Chayav Adam Lir’Os Es Atzmo K’Ilu Hu Yatzah Mi’Mitzrayim (A Person is obligated to view himself as if he left Egypt).” The rabbis explain that we each have our “Egypt”; we each have those circumstances which keep us shackled and enslaved. Through remembering our redemption from Egyptian servitude, we can experience emancipation from our personal servitude. By retelling and reliving the past, we can bring that redemptive energy to our present circumstances. This is a concept we have learned and discussed extensively, yet find difficult to actualize. We have celebrated many a Pesach Seder, we have fulfilled the obligations, yet don’t feel unburdened or emancipated when it is over. We execute the details, but have yet to feel the redemptive energy of this holiday. How do we maximize the Seder experience and allow ourselves to experience this personal freedom?

Amazingly, the answer is found in the Haggadah:

Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah said: “I am like a man of seventy years old, yet I did not succeed in proving that the exodus from Egypt must be mentioned at night-until Ben Zoma explained it: “It is said, `That you may remember the day you left Egypt all the days of your life;’ now `the days of your life’ refers to the days, [and the additional word] `all’ indicates the inclusion of the nights!”

The commentaries are bothered by the inclusion of this section in the Haggadah. The great sage Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah is not referring to the night of Pesach, he is referring to the nights throughout the year. There are two distinct obligations which relate to remembering the Exodus. Each and every day we have the mitzvah of “Zechira”, remembering the Exodus. This can be fulfilled by simply mentioning that God took us out of Egypt (we fulfill this obligation through the recitation of the third paragraph of Shema). On the night of Pesach, the mitzvah is “Sippur” an in-depth retelling and recounting of the entire Exodus narrative (we fulfill this through the Haggadah). Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah is discussing the obligation of “Zechira”. As such, why is this discussion included in the Haggadah?

Although there are many answers, I would like to share with you one that relates not to the content of Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah’s words but rather to his personality. The Talmud (Berachos 27b) relates the story of the search for a new head for the rabbinical academy in Israel. There was a short list of distinguished personalities for this important position, but the list was ultimately narrowed down to one man, Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah. The delegation approached the great sage and asked if he would become the Rosh Yeshiva (head of the academy).

They went and said to him: “Will your honor consent to become head of the academy?” He

replied: “I will go and consult the members of my family”. He went and consulted his wife. She said to him: “Perhaps they will depose you later-on (Rabban Gamliel, the previous head was removed from the position)”. He replied to her: [There is a proverb:] “Let a man use a cup of honor (expensive crystal glass) for one day even if it be broken the next”.

Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah’s wife understood that in Jewish communal service it is a good idea to look at how the community treated your predecessor before accepting a position. Rabban Gamliel, the previous Rosh Yeshiva, was older and more highly regarded than Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah. Yet, Rabban Gamlilel fell out of favor with his rabbinic colleagues and was fired (the background to this espoide is beyond the purview of this essay). Rabbi Eleazar’s wife felt the risk for her husband was too great. To which Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah responded, “I am not blind to the potential risks. I am not ignoring the reality that perhaps those who respect me today may turn on me tomorrow. But there is an opportunity right in front of me now; there is promise and possibility at my doorstep. How can I not take advantage? My dear wife, better to use the beautiful goblet today and see it break tomorrow then to never use the goblet at all.”

In the words of the English poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” All opportunities come with risk. In fact the greater the opportunity, the greater the

risk and possibility of failure and defeat. If one only takes advantage of the opportunities for which he is guaranteed success, he will accomplish very little.

We must see the beauty in every opportunity, seize it with full force and commitment and try to the best of our ability to succeed. And if we fail,  weknow that we have grown from this opportunity, learned from this experience, are enriched as a result and better prepared to tackle future life initiatives.

The greatness of Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah was his willingness to engage life without the being assured of success. Perhaps, this is why this section is included in the Haggadah. Freedom doesn’t come with a guarantee of success. Freedom only guarantees our ability to try. Sometimes we try and succeed and sometimes we fail miserably. All too often we are scared to try if we can’t be guaranteed success. Deep down, we fear failure. For some it is a result of past failures, for others it may be a lack of self-confidence. We lose out on so many life opportunities because we are simply too scared to start. And we come to the Seder with an opportunity to become free; to free ourselves of the things which are holding us back, to free ourselves from the very things which shackle us to mediocrity and underperformance. As we are about to free ourselves of our burdens, we think, ”how long will this last? I can let go of my pain, frustration and animosity for a couple of hours. I can let go of the grudges and shattered dreams for a night, but it will all come rushing back tomorrow? What’s the point of allowing myself to feel freedom if I can’t perpetuate it?” And it is in that very moment that we hear the voice of Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah, “better to use the beautiful goblet today and see it break tomorrow then to never used the goblet at all.” Better to experience even just a few hours of freedom than none at all.

In one week from now, we will IYH sit at our Seder and we will strive to feel free. We are going to do whatever we can to leave our personal Egypt. For a few hours, we are going to find a way to extricate ourselves from the shackles and bondage which keep us tethered to compromised life circumstances. We know that we may not be able to free ourselves forever, but if we can drink from the goblet of freedom for a few hours, if we can feel that freedom coursing through our veins, we know that we will strive to be free again. Even if the next morning we may be right back where we started, once one drinks from the chalice of freedom, he will yearn, pine and desire for more. We often think that our goal is to succeed: we forget that our obligation is to try. Allow yourself to feel free for a few hours, let go of whatever is holding you back and experience emancipation. Tomorrow will be dealt with tomorrow. Rabbi Eleazar ben Azaryah and the Pesach seder teach us to maximize the moment in front of us now.

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Parsha Perspectives: Tazriah-Confronting the Kohen

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In this week’s Parsha we learn of the laws of the Tzaraas, loosely translated as leprosy, though in fact the Talmud explains that this was no ordinary physical ailment. Tzaraas was the physical manifestation of spiritual sickness. Specifically, if one spoke Lashon Hara (slanderous or negative speech) about another, he or she would be stricken by this disease. We are told in great detail about the process for declaring someone a Metzorah as well the multi-step purification process. While there are many intricate details involved with this process, one thing is clear. It is only a Kohen who could make the final determination as to whether a particular discoloration was in fact Tzaraas. Someone could study the laws of Tzaraas for years, but only a Kohen could utter the words Tamei(impure) or Tahor (pure). It is this Kohanic utterance that determines the ritual status of the individual.

But why the Kohen? Why is he vested with this ultimate authority? The person who contracted Tzaraas spoke negatively about another (as mentioned above) and in doing so had driven a wedge, created a chasm and orchestrated a divide within Klal Yisroel. Who can repair this damage? It is only a Kohen, a descendant of Aharon whose entire being was dedicated to creating peace, harmony, love and respect within the ranks of the Jewish people who could heal this stricken individual. The Metzorah must come face to face with a man who is the very antithesis of what the Metzorah represents. The Metzorahdivides, the Kohen bridges. The Metzorah sows the seeds of animosity, the Kohen nurtures the sapling of love. The Metzorah sees the worst in everyone, the Kohen sees the beauty in every soul. It is only the Kohen who can repair that which the Metzorah has destroyed.

The laws of Tzaraas may not be currently applicable but the message certainly is. We must make sure the Kohen triumphs over the Metzorah. We must do what we can to prevent animosity, slander and negativity within the ranks of our people. We must foster an atmosphere of achdus (unity).

We speak often about unity. Throughout the ages, rabbis, sages and scholars have all written on the need to avoid conflict and create national cohesion. The Talmud warns us repeatedly regarding the dangers of being a divided people. It sounds so simple, yet it often feels so elusive. Where do we start? What is the first step in achieving this lofty goal of Jewish unity? There is an incredible passage in the Zohar (Shmini, 36a):

Rabbi Pinchos ben Yair was once travelling and his donkey began to bray happily. Rabbi Pinchos said, “If my donkey is braying happily it must be that another Jew is on the road approaching us. As he rounded the side of the mountain he met Rabbi Elazar. Rabbi Pinchos said, “I now know why my donkey was so joyous!” Rabbi Elazar embraced and kissed Rabbi Pinchos. Rabbi Pinchos said, “If we are travelling in the same direction, let’s travel together.” To which Rabbi Elazar responded, “Once I have found you, I will travel in whichever direction you are headed.”

The Zohar then goes on to discuss the various topics they pondered as they were journeying together. What is so striking about this story is the donkey. Rabbi Pinchos ben Yair had a donkey which brayed happily at the presence of another Jew. This is because Rabbi Pinchos ben Yair was one who greeted every person with a smile and warm countenance. When you greet someone with a smile you convey to them a sense of importance and meaning. A simple smile allows a person to feel recognized. So many people walk through this world thinking they are unimportant or extra. So many people feel the world doesn’t need them and no one would care or notice if they were no longer here. When you smile at someone you are making the statement, “You are important. Important enough that I am going to take the few extra moments, flex my facial muscles and extend a greeting to you. I see you, I recognize you, we are part of the same nation. Even if I don’t know you, deep down, I do.” And when you do this enough you begin to change the world around you. The feelings of friendship, warmth, companionship and love for the other are felt not only by the recipient; they permeate those around you and change the emotional climate. When you take the time to smile and acknowledge the other it even impacts your donkey.

The road to achdus, national unity is a long and circuitous one. We must find our inner Kohen and our external smile; and when we do, we can change the world.

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Parsha Perspectives: Shmini-Genuine Joy

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In the aftermath of the tragic deaths of Nadav and Avihu, God appeared to Aharon, the bereaved father and instructed him:

“And the Lord spoke to Aharon saying, ‘Do not drink wine that will lead to intoxication, neither you nor your sons with you, when you go into the Tent of Meeting, so that you shall not die. [This is] an eternal statute for your generations.’” (Vayikra 10:8-9)

The Kohanim (priests) may not drink wine either before or when performing the Temple service. On a most basic level this was to ensure the sanctity and appropriateness of Kohanic behavior. In addition, the Kohanim were often consulted on matters of Jewish law and therefore, had to possess the clarity of mind to rule on complex issues. But why was Aharon given these instructions now? This could have been communicated at the beginning of the Mishkan’s inauguration. Yet, God chose to communicate this to Aharon in the aftermath of the loss of his sons. Why?

The commentaries offer many different approaches. I would like to share with you an incredible insight by the Ben Ish Chai (Chacham Yosef Chaim, Chief Rabbi of Baghdad, 1835-1909).

“… For the Temple and wine are two opposites. The Temple itself has the ability to fill the heart of a person with incredible joy … however, wine was created to comfort mourners or those who have suffered misfortune, as the verse states, ‘give wine to the embittered soul.’ Therefore, when one comes to the Temple which is the source of all joy, why would he need to drink wine?”

Wine was created to dull pain, to take the edge off difficult situations (when used in moderation). The Talmud explains that upon returning from burying a loved one, mourners were given a “cup of consolation,” a large glass of wine. God created something that can help remove some of the searing pain of life’s challenges. But this is not true joy. This is a masking or a dulling of the pain. At times, this is necessary as one is not yet ready to confront and tackle his broken heart. True joy comes from the Temple. True joy comes from connection with God. Happiness comes from within. The Kohen cannot drink wine when he comes to the Temple, because God wants the Kohen’s joy to come from his service and connection and not from an intoxicating beverage. God wants the Kohen to experience true and complete joy and not a contrived state of happiness resulting from masking life challenges. God wants the Kohen to feel simcha, not simply the absence of tzaar (pain).

God was speaking to a bereaved father. Aharon’s world had imploded as he had just experienced the loss of his beloved sons. God tells Aharon, “I know that life will never be the same for you. I know that although you have accepted My will and decree, your heart is shattered in a million pieces. But you can find a way to reclaim some measure of happiness through a life of sacred service and connection to the Divine. Don’t seek out happiness through dulling your pain, find joy in a life of meaningful, dynamic service.”

Wine has its place. There is no Jewish life-cycle event which doesn’t include wine. In just a few weeks we will demonstrate our freedom by drinking 4 cups of wine at the Seder. Wine can help you feel happy – but it can’t make you happy. True happiness comes from within. True happiness is the result of living a meaningful life filled with connection to God and the Jewish people. Real simcha is the result of knowing that we are each making a difference and our livesare purposeful. Genuine joy comes from knowing that we are striving to become the best version of ourselves.  The wine can help at times, but true joy can only be found in the Temple.

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